All Is One, One Is All
by black-klepon
Summary: When his government collapsed and was overtaken by a new regiment, America plunged into chaos. Al had to defend the nation and himself... and in doing so; he, along with his friends and his own people, must show that America stands to its name: United.
1. Chapter 1

Warning(s): Language, slight gory…? More below.

Author's Note: So. This is only a trial and just-for-fun fic; please bear that in mind. Alternate Timeline.

Warning: At first this story is supposed to contain racial matters... but after some yelling from my friends I've decided to change them out. Tho' the main story wouldn't be far too different from the previous one, but the characters are going to change. Hope that wouldn't offend anyone... I don't want any FBI-like thing running after me anyway -_- And I'm not American at all, so I have no idea of what is the inside of the USA, cities and things like that; thus there is a very big chance that the places will be - geographically - incorrect. Trying my best to get them right tho'.

This is an America-centric fic... as in, the USA. Yeah I know Al is America... it's kinda hard to explain.

Human names are used here, 'cause I think if use the nations' name it'd be confusing whether who was talking about who or what. Beware of some OOCs; while OCs are a yes… just see it later.

* * *

Chapter 1

_December C.E. 2062, World Meeting_

"Al, you okay?" Matthew asked anxiously. His brother hadn't looked well since several days ago, and he couldn't help but to worry about him. Al has always been a cheerful and loud guy… him being silent was already strange. Not to mention that he had begun to daydream while in the meeting.

His brother blinked wearily, yawning in the process. "I'm fine, Matt. Just a bit tired."

But living together with Al for years couldn't fool him that easily, because his blue eyes told a different story. "You sure? You can go home if you're not feeling good, you know…" He advised.

"Nah, s'not a big prob. Just need more sleep later, trust me." Alfred yawned again and adjusted his glasses, leaning back into his chair.

"Al, do you have something to say?" Arthur called from the end of the table.

Waving his hand airily, he closed his eyes to stifle another yawn. "Nope, just go on, Arthur."

The older blond nodded, and then turned his head to face the whole room once more. "All right. So as I was saying…"

Soon enough the meeting ended, and Alfred walked out of the room tiredly, followed by Arthur behind. His face was all scrunched up, and it was clear as a day that he needed some rest, else he'd collapse anytime.

"I think you need a rest, Al." Arthur suggested, flipping the man's file. "You look like you haven't slept for days."

"Yea, gotta agree with you on the resting part." The taller blond gave an agreeing nod, "and your second part wasn't wrong either…" He trailed off.

"Huh?" Arthur stopped walking instantly, and when the man in front of him turned his body he raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner. "What do you mean – you've not had enough sleep?"

Alfred laughed nervously, and scratched the back of his head. "Well yeah, you're right."

"And why, if I might ask?" Arthur questioned again, curiosity getting the best of him, "it's not like you to not having enough sleep."

Groaning audibly, Alfred gestured for the shorter blond to follow him. "I'll tell you… but accompany me to the café, okay?"

And that was why both men had ended up in the nearby café, with the taller blond slumping like he had no more energy inside his body. He swigged his cup of black coffee, and let his head hit the table. "So that's why, Arthur… work's been hectic like Hell." He complained, "oh, and don't tell Matthew, please? I don't want him to worry about me too much."

"…I see." Arthur nodded in confirmation, "rest assured, I won't tell anyone about this. But my advice, you balance your life and your work… or people would notice, even if not immediately."

"Yeah, like," Alfred snorted indignantly, "I've got two people telling me the same thing today."

"That is, if you want to get better." Arthur retorted mildly.

The younger man stayed silent for a few more minutes before smiling and nodding weakly. "I know," he answered, "I'll get better in a flash, don't you worry. I've been through times like this a lot of times already… a condition such as this won't defeat me that easily."

They stayed in silence for several more minutes, the only audible sound was the music playing softly from behind the counter. It was rather mellow yet relaxing, and both Alfred and Arthur found themselves relaxed with just each other's company.

About 20 minutes later Alfred stood up from his chair, straightening his body. Groaning audibly, he did a slight exercise just to warm himself back again. "Hey," he began, turning to the older blond and smiled, "thanks for accompanying me, Arthur. I appreciate it, really."

"It's no problem at all, Al. Just thought that maybe someone's company might cheer you up a bit."

"Yea, you're right." The taller blond nodded in agreement, wearing his coat once again. When he noticed Arthur taking out his wallet, he immediately stopped him in doing so, yanking out his own as he did so. "I'll pay this time, Arthur."

"Huh?" The shorter blond blinked in surprise, and was about to retort when he noticed the younger man's blue eyes. The shine was back in its place, and though it wasn't as strong as usual; it was there, lightening his posture and each of his movements. "…Okay then, whatever you say."

But the American suddenly grinned and smacked the Briton's back rather hard, causing him to cough and scowl. "Hey, what was that about?"

"No, nothing," Alfred sang happily as he began to walk out of the small café, waving to the owner behind. The tip was already on the table, and the older blond only shook his head, because he knew how much money Alfred usually left. He then followed the taller man out of the café.

Outside, the snow had begun to fall lightly, swirling in a circular pattern around the streets. The lamps were on, dimly enlightening the covered-with-white road. It was about 3 or 4 pm, but as it was already winter the sky was starting to get dark.

Alfred huffed out a white puff of breath as he said, "Arthur, you can go back now. I can handle it from here on… and thanks for accompanying me… again."

Eyeing the taller blond for a second, Arthur asked once more, just to make sure he was alright. "You sure you can take care of yourself?"

"Yea, trust me, okay?"

Arthur said nothing, he just nodded and turned to walk to the opposite direction as Alfred's instead. He waved his right gloved hand at the American, but didn't see that the latter smiled and waved back at him before going back to his own house.

Several hours later, Arthur was just about to drink his tea when his cell phone vibrated inside his pocket, so he took it out and flipped it open. On the bright screen was a small box of a message notification.

It was from Al.

He put his cup back on the table and opened the message.

_Hey, Arthur, do you mind coming to my house now? I have a helluva work here… I mean, it's 'kay if you don't want to though… if you're coming, tell me so I can pick you up at the airport. And don't worry about the tickets, I'll pay. Al._

When he finished reading the message, his eyebrows furrowed into a frown. Hadn't Al said that he was okay? What had happened after he had left to his house? Without a really proper consideration, Arthur typed his reply.

_I'll be there shortly, Al. Did anything happen after I left?_

Arthur rushed to his room leaving his phone beside his cup before grabbing his suitcase and stuffing things like clothes and personal accessories into it immediately. Five minutes later Arthur believed that he had just finished the fastest sudden packing in his whole life, and locked it tightly. He went back outside with the suitcase on his left hand, checking his phone again. Al's reply had arrived about three minutes ago.

_Thanks, Artie._

Arthur's previous frown reappeared, now even deeper. _Something must be wrong with Al_, he thought, he _won't be like this if there hadn't been anything wrong._

_Don't think about it._ Was his immediate reply.

And that was why Arthur found himself here, standing in front of Alfred's huge mansion. Staring at the brown door for a moment, he knocked at it. Even though he had the key to Al's house, he didn't feel like just storming in, especially when he didn't know what had happened to the younger blond.

Seconds later the lock clicked, and Alfred poked his head out of the door. When he saw the man who was standing there, he smiled and pushed open the door wider. "I think I've told you that I'll pick you up at the airport… but anyway, come in Arthur."

Shrugging himself out of his coat, the older man hung his coat on the provided pole near the door. He then turned to face the taller blond fully, and looked directly at his blue eyes. "What happened, Al?" The fact that he was looking rather disheveled – from his clothes, his hair, heck his face also – didn't really help at all.

"Ah, well," the American fidgeted slightly, eyeing the floor, "s'just… I'm kinda feeling lonely with all the stacks of papers…" But then he looked up again to Arthur's green ones, "I've told you it's okay if you didn't want to come, did I?"

"I wouldn't have come if I don't want to help you, idiot." The Brit retorted, "you're just too daft, you know?" He sighed, but continued again, "now just tell me where am I supposed help you."

"…You sure?" Alfred asked, with a hint of uncertainty. When he saw the other man glaring he quickly raised his hands and laughed, "alright, alright, Artie. Geez you're just too serious…" He finished.

The two men walked into the main hall in comfortable silence albeit the previous bickering, with the younger man leading them both. Soon they arrived in front of another door, though this one was a common type.

"Hey," Al began, capturing Arthur's attention, "I'll be in here if you need me, yea?"

"Sure," the Brit nodded easily, "but what am I supposed to do?"

"Oh yeah!" The other blond exclaimed, and led him to the next door. "I just need you to, uh… sort the files inside for me? It won't be that hard, I promise."

After Alfred opened the door, Arthur came in, taking on the room. It looked just like an ordinary working room… but there was some sort of relaxed aura that lingered around the place that made… breathing, easier. Common offices usually had a tense aura, making works even harder. But this room, Arthur thought to himself, was probably specifically designed for ease at work… especially when the designer was Alfred.

"Okay then, I'll take it from here." Dropping his suitcase next to the desk, he asked again, "do you have anything else for me to do?"

"Ah, no," Alfred answered, "t'was bad enough of me already to ask for your help, giving you more works isn't what a hero would do, ya know?" He grinned before walking out of the room, leaving Arthur with the files. "Just call me if you need anything!" He yelled from the outside.

Arthur began working, starting with the file on the top of the stack. After about half an hour, he turned his head around to look for a drink, and found a small refrigerator at the corner of the room. Grabbing an instant can of coffee (since it was the only thing that was inside the fridge), he got back to his work.

When the clock hit eleven o'clock, Arthur stood up, straightening himself. His back was stiff after about four hours of sorting and no standing, and his eyes were starting to burn. Yawning, he walked towards the door and opened it. "Al?" He called. No answer.

He knocked on Al's office, but still received no answer at all. "Hey, Al?" He called again, this time louder. After a few seconds with still no answer, he decided to look in.

There, Alfred was behind the desk, but his head was on it. Three cans of coffee stood at the corner of his desk, while his pen was threatening to fall down. A constant yet barely audible snore could be heard, and Arthur smiled to himself as he shook his head.

He went out of the room again, only to come back with a blanket and a small pillow on both hands. "Idiot, you could've just stopped if you were tired," he muttered quietly. Lifting Al's head, he collected all the papers that had been under with the head before putting the small pillow there. After the desk looked tidy enough, Arthur wrapped the blanket around the younger man's body.

"G'night, Al." Arthur bid quietly before turning off the lamps and closing the door with a quiet click.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter didn't really contain anything :p The main problem would show up on the next chapter... hopefully.

And if you noticed any mistakes, I'd be really grateful if you would point them out... anyway, thanks for reading! XD


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: So… I have a review that I haven't replied to since it's not a signed one. I'll answer it here.

Thorn (): As you and my besties suggested, I've changed the race things. I don't really feel like writing it at first… but yea, let's just see where would I end this story :p

Anyhow… I guess I can't really complain about people telling me to take the race part out. I've done it, and replaced it with – hopefully – more readable ones.

* * *

Chapter 2

The early morning chirps of birds slowly dragged Alfred out of his slumber. Groaning, he turned his head as to avoid the bright sunlight, but found it useless.

After several more minutes passed away, he jerked his body upright, yelping when the awkward position he'd slept with took its toll. "Ow shoot, did I fell asleep again on the desk?" He muttered grudgingly, rubbing his bleary eyes. He blinked twice when realization hit him, spinning around on a fixed point. "Where the hell are my glasses – moreover, who-" He cut himself off as the memory of yesterday came back to his mind.

"Ah," he clicked his fingers and grinned, "it's Artie."

After tidying up his previous works, Alfred proceeded into his bedroom quietly, although he knew that the Brit was probably already awake and was sitting near the kitchen, sipping his usual morning tea. A lot of years had passed since he last stayed in Arthur's house and vice versa, but it didn't really surprise himself that he still remembered the older man's habit.

The American entered his bathroom, and came out about seven minutes later, now fully dressed in his civilian clothes. He didn't feel like working today, as he knew that the same thing would await him in the office. He'll just call the Boss and tell him that he couldn't come for today… surely it couldn't be that hard, right?

More five minutes for finishing his hair and private issues, Al trotted down the stairs towards the kitchen, noticing the older blond outside, in his yard.

"Mornin' Arthur!" He greeted happily along his way.

The Briton didn't even turn his head, but greeted back. "Morning to you too, Al." Then he continued to sip his tea, "you don't mind if I used your kitchen for a while, do you?"

"No," Al hummed, "as long as you don't burn things off or set my kitchen ablaze." At Arthur's visible scowl he only grinned even more. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. Did you eat breakfast already?"

"I did," the older man answered, "took an apple from your fridge, if you don't mind."

As for his own breakfast, Al made a simple sandwich with triple bacon along with an instant coffee. He brought them to the table, sitting across Arthur.

"Say, Artie, you've seen my newspaper?" He asked while munching his meal.

Scowling and without even looking up from his own paper, Arthur answered, "Jesus, Al, could you swallow your food first? Your paper's on the pantry, I just skimmed through it a while ago."

When Alfred nodded and went back inside to fetch the said thing, Arthur suddenly asked, now looking up, "hey, Al, can I ask you something though?"

"Sure, Artie. What's bothering you?"

"It was just…" The former pirate frowned, putting down his papers on the table, "I don't know if this is strange to you or not; but why is there a lot of murder reports on today's edition?"

Just after the last word came out from the Brit's mouth, Alfred stiffened momentarily. _Oh fuck_, he thought desperately, _nobody should know about this – especially not him!_ "Uh, why do you ask that?" He could just hope that the shorter blond wouldn't notice anything unusual.

But Arthur had lived with, taken care of, and even slept beside the younger man when he was just a small child; and his trained eyes that were the result of his pirate days couldn't be fooled so easily. He actually wanted to press the matter more, but decided against it. "I'm just curious, that's all. Because, usually, reports about crime like murders don't eat that much place in common papers."

Alfred could feel a lump rising in his throat, but he gulped it down again. "I dunno," he laughed rather nervously, "they usually don't eat that much place either." The American sneezed, and tried to divert their conversation to another different topic. "I think I'm gonna catch a cold," he muttered quietly to himself.

Then again, Arthur wasn't Arthur Kirkland if he couldn't hear the quiet muttering sound… which he was sure that the younger man intended only for himself. "Oh," he commented, "then make sure that you get another proper rest." Making a mental note to find out about Al's strange behavior later, he continued to read his newspaper. But his brain wasn't doing anything helpful but to make him feel more worried.

Letting out a heavy yet soft sigh of relief, Alfred snatched the newspaper from the top of the glossy black furniture. He hesitated at first; whether to tell Arthur the truth when he asked later or not… but knowing that this was the great pirate that used to conquer most of the World, he would probably ask again later. Just with a different way.

Something clicked in his mind moments later when he was reading the international news page. "Hey," he poked the other blond's shoulder, causing him to twitch slightly, "don't you have your own work back in England?" He continued to poke the older man until the latter swatted his hand away and glared at him.

"You're just too daft, you know?" He half-growled, and ignored the nod from the man sitting next to him. "If I still have works to do back in my place, I wouldn't even come here yesterday!"

"Oh, so you're work-free today?" He concluded, and before the Brit got the chance to retort again he beamed up immediately. "Awesome! So you don't mind helping me again, yea?" He asked with a gleam of hope in his eyes, which didn't escape Arthur's notice.

And he had every single little intention not to let that gleam disappear, never again. Because he knew, once that small flame of hope disappeared, the chance for it to return was extremely small… considering this was Alfred F. Jones he was talking about. Obnoxious as Hell yet kind-hearted… maybe Al was still that small child that he used to look after long time ago. "Just show me where do you want me to help you with."

"Ah, sure." The American nodded eagerly, "just let me finish today's paper."

The older blond nodded, "whatever."

Soon enough Alfred finished his paper, standing up and followed by Arthur. He threw the bundled paper carelessly, leaving the shorter man to pick it up and place it on the table.

"Can't you be at least tidier, Al?" He asked gruffly.

"Nope," the younger man responded swiftly, "it's just the way I am."

"Yeah, right." Arthur rolled his eyes, "what a stupid thing to ask."

At that commentary the American pretended to look offended, and gaped at the older blond. "That's such a cruel thing to say, Arthur!" He imitated.

"And I'm adding no sense of humour to that list."

"Hey, I was just joking, Artie!" Alfred protested, and with a slight pout he added, "geez, you're just too grumpy, y'know that?" Then he continued to walk towards his office.

The younger man entered the office first, with the former pirate just slightly behind him.

As the American didn't say anything about going to the next room, Arthur just followed him directly, assuming that his work was in this room, not the other one. He stopped in front of the desk, observing the younger nation rummage through the steel-green cabinet.

Alfred pulled several files out of each drawer, and stacked them on the table. He patted the top document, and then grinned at the older man. "So yea, I just need you to sort these out."

Arthur grabbed all of them and was just turning his back when the younger man stopped him. "Ah," he shook his head, "you don't need to go to the next door again. Are you comfy enough on the couch?" He pointed to the brown furniture not far from his own desk.

"Sure."

Thus they worked together in silence like that for approximately four hours… with a 30 minutes break in between. Empty cans of soda and instant coffee lay forgotten below the desk as Al threw himself backwards, punching the air with both hands. "It's finally done!" He exclaimed, rubbing his eyes, "more works like that and I think I'm gonna explode." Approaching the Brit who was completely absorbed into his work, Al peeked from over the shoulder. "You alright there, Artie?" He asked curiously.

"I'm fine, thanks." He replied without even looking up, "just give me another minute and I'll be done."

"Okay." The taller man hummed happily, grabbing another can of soda from the refrigerator. "Say, Artie," he mumbled, "you think you could stay here for another night?"

For a moment he thought that the Briton was going to ignore him, but a reply came. And it was not what he had expected, even if he did make two predictions.

"…_Ivan_?" Arthur almost hissed at the paper.

Alfred choked on the soda and spurted a mouthful of them, and he stared at the former pirate dumbly, the liquid still dripping from his mouth. "What," he drawled cautiously, "the hell did you mean with 'Ivan', Arthur?"

"Wha – oh." The sitting blond blinked once, twice. "Nah, I misread the name." Closing the file, he looked up. And when he saw the younger nation's gaping mouth and idiotic expression along with the dripping soda, he wrinkled his forehead and narrowed his eyes. "For God's sake, Alfred," he really hissed now, "don't you at least have enough decency not to look like that?"

Shaking his head quickly, the American wiped his mouth with a tissue. "Hey," he cried, "you caused me to! I was only drinking when you mentioned Ivan's name!" He protested loudly.

"Yeah," Arthur retorted, but this time weaker, "but I did tell you that I misread the name!"

"You did and I know that, Arthur!" Alfred had begun wailing by now, the green soda can thrown carelessly somewhere (lucky it was already empty), "because all important documents regarding international diplomatic issues especially with _Russia_ are kept by the government, so you nearly gave me a heart attack when you mentioned Ivan! Why would I ever keep documents about him – if it's not extremely important – here in my house?" The American ranted, and panted heavily after he finished.

At the older man's stunned expression he paused, and threw his face away. "S-Sorry," he mumbled quickly, "I-I got carried away."

The former pirate had been around the younger nation for almost more than three centuries now, and never for once did the latter did something like that. When he said things like that or when he criticized him, the reaction had always been predictable… but that?

Had he gone too far?

"N-No, Al," the Brit stammered, "it's fine. I was the wrong one."

There was no sound, but after several seconds Alfred looked back to the sitting blond, with a mixed expression of scared and doubtful. "…You sure?" He asked slowly, the glasses reflecting the sunlight coming from the outside.

"Yes." Arthur answered firmly, "now about the question you asked earlier… sorry, but I can't, Al. I have to be back to England tonight, but yeah, I'm free until the evening. What do you have in mind anyway?" He tried to steer the conversation to a brighter mood, just so that Al didn't have that look on his face again.

He was sure that something must be wrong – something must be bothering Al terribly. Because almost all of the times they had argued, Al would be the first one to end it by either laughing or grinning. This time he didn't; instead he stared at Arthur warily, as if afraid of something.

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but it looked like something came across his mind and he closed his mouth again… only to broke off into a goofy grin.

"Alright then Artie, let's just forget this and go out, yea?" He shouted happily as he lunged forward, grabbing the older man's shoulder. "'cause you did say that you're free until this evening, so let's go around!"

Arthur snapped back into reality when he was dragged out of the room, the door slamming closed behind him. He stared at it dumbly before staggering backwards and regaining his balance back. "Geez, Al, you don't have to drag me 'round, you know?" He grunted half-happily half-angrily, adjusting his shirt back to the position he preferred. "So? Where are we going?"

"Wherever I like, or you like, as long as the time allows!" He answered happily, snatching his car key from atop the counter. "But I'm driving." He added at the end.

"Okay you drive, but when you make us end somewhere unclear, I'll take over the car." The Briton eyed the younger nation who had turned to face him challengingly.

The American's eyes flashed rather dangerously in a happy way, and he spun the keychain on his right index finger, returning the same challenging look. "Then we have a deal." He finished, powering up the car as he said so.

After the both of them entered the car, Alfred got it out of his garage and locked the gate. After they were inside the car, he immediately put in the gear and zoomed out in a flash, Arthur barely finished fastening his seat belt.

Hours later they returned with a plastic-full of car, and the older blond almost fell out of the car when he tried to get himself out. He glowered at the black vehicle, and his mouth was pressed into a hard line when he turned to the taller man.

"Seriously, Al," he began, "yes you didn't take us anywhere strange, but do you have to overload the poor thing?"

"Ah, well, you see…" He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, "I haven't bought any groceries for quite some time, and since you're here I figured it might be good for someone to help me out."

"…Right." Arthur couldn't really say anything else.

"By the way, what time is your plane going to take off?" Al asked, getting the plastic bags out of his transportation.

"Um, it said that around seven I've got to check in…" The former pirate paused in his work and glanced at his watch. And then he cursed loudly, causing the bag on his right hand to fall to the ground.

"Jump in again, Artie." The American grinned and pointed to the empty seat next to him, "go get your stuffs and I'll get you to the airport in no time."

Wasting no time at all, the Briton dashed inside and returned within three minutes, throwing his brown suitcase into the car. He managed to lock the gate swiftly and entered the car.

Alfred stepped on the gas before he even had the chance to close the door… and as he was afraid that if he didn't close the door in time and it hit a tree or something, Arthur yanked the door with all his might, earning an amused look from the driving blond. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." Humming happily, Al directed his attention back to the road. It was winter and if he could choose; he'd prefer his own room, a cup of coffee, a bowl of popcorn and a good movie. But Arthur was here, and he had promised that he'll pay for Arthur's tickets and transport to and from the airport.

When they did get into the airport, Arthur actually still had enough time to bid the younger blond a farewell. "Take care of yourself so you don't catch a cold, Al." Was his last sentence before he waved his hand, walking towards the gate.

"Yeah," Alfred replied, waving back, "and thanks for your help, Artie!"

Even though the Briton knew that Al wouldn't be able to see it, he still smiled and waved his right hand, before melding into the crowds inside.

* * *

A/N: So… I guess there are few hints about the main problem here? These two chapter are rather prologue-like, I think… because chapter three will start with the problem immediately. I hope. *gets hit*


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I'm really trying to make this chapter not to sound like an US/UK one… but I can't help it! TT^TT When this chap is finished… I'll think of something to distract me away - action.

…hopefully. *headdesk*

****

Chapter 3

_April C.E. 2063, World Meeting_

Four months. It had been four months since he last saw that smiling face. When he had lunged into him after his sudden outburst, and dragged him out. Four months.

Yet it seemed like a century for him.

Several days after New Year, Alfred hadn't come to the World Meeting. He'd asked Matthew about it, but the only answer he ever got was that the young nation had been sick and couldn't attend the meeting.

Wars had been getting worse ever since January, and now it's getting like Hell in some parts of the Earth. Al had come the day after, and he was about to ask him when he saw those blue eyes behind the glasses.

Alfred's eyes. After several centuries, those eyes looked… lifeless. His whole figure had looked like someone who hadn't slept for days, and when he did smile, it was a forced, unnatural smile. Unlike the one he usually had on his face. When he was asked for his opinion about something, he answered. But the answers had been short and – yeah, just like that. No crazy or impossible ideas that usually came from his mouth.

Arthur didn't have any idea why, or what had happened that changed Al so drastically, even up until now. But that was what he usually told people whenever he was asked about Al.

To be _really_ honest… he had. Or probably had. He didn't know which one was the correct one. Well he hoped that maybe he knew… because at least it would help to ease his worry a bit.

Here they were, sitting inside the meeting room. Kiku was the main speaker now, standing at the end of the table. He himself was located in the middle, while Alfred was seated almost at the end of the row.

He threw a quick glance at the younger man, examining his profiles. For common people – or they who didn't know him well enough – Alfred looked normal, nothing wrong. But Arthur had spent years, even centuries, to be able to read him.

Fatigue. That one thing was clear as a day. Those shoulders, which were always high because of the overflowing enthusiasm, were now slumped. Sure, he acted like his usual self in front of the other nations, but it was hard to fool eyes that used to belong to a pirate.

When Al usually attended every single meeting ever since it was first held, these four months he had skipped some. At first it was once a month, then it gradually increased into twice a month, three times a month and four times at its worst. Although he never skipped for more than four times.

The Briton had suggested that he stayed at home and think of a way to get better more than twice. But every time, his advice was ignored. He knew that telling the American to stay back and let the other do the job was probably impossible… at least Al had to take a rest sometime.

That was what he always thought.

Shaking his head slightly to clear those thoughts, Arthur returned his attention to Kiku. His mind seemed to have another plan though, as few moments later he drifted off into the younger blond again. Just, this time about the government.

News about the USA appeared and disappeared in the newspapers, be it the government, the economical issues or political issues.

Once, Ivan had approached him after the meeting had ended. Alfred had gone somewhere, and they were the last nations inside the room. He'd been tidying up his files and documents, and hadn't really paid any attention to his surrounding until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He could feel his breath hitch in his own throat, and he summoned enough courage to look up. "Yes, Ivan?"

"Da, Arthur." The huge nation had returned smoothly. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Ah, I don't know if I'm the wrong one or not here," Ivan withdrew his hand, shoving them into his coat. "But Alfred hadn't looked too well recently. Am I wrong?"

"Um…" Arthur paused to think of an answer, or even an excuse would do. He couldn't tell Ivan that his prediction was that the Russian government caused that, could he? "I don't really know myself. Al didn't say anything, he's just probably tired or so."

The Russian nodded, and smiled politely. "Thanks, Arthur. I was just curious about his condition, that's all." He finished as he got out of the room, leaving the Brit alone inside.

Shuddering, Arthur forced himself to shoo the previous menacing aura off. Did Ivan really not know about Al, or was he just pretending to do so? He then finished all the documents, stacking them up and brought them up to his chest, walking out of the meeting room.

After leaving the documents on his room, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. Searching the letter A, the top of the list was Al's name. Arthur chose not to call the younger blond, texting him instead.

_Al, where are you?_

He flipped it close again and strolled down the corridor when he paused in front of the washroom. With a quick consideration, he pushed the door and entered it, heading to the mirror. Arthur stared at his own reflection for a moment before turning the tap and washed his face. There was really no reason for him to do so… he just wanted to.

When he got out, he checked his phone, hoping that Al had answered. And yes, Al did answer.

_I'm at McD next to the building, Arthur._

The Briton stuffed the phone into his pocket, before striding down the hall to the main entrance. He paused to get his coat from the reception, and then marched out of the building. It took him about five minutes to reach the McD, and when he was inside it wasn't that difficult to locate the younger blond.

Alfred didn't notice Arthur's presence, not until the latter pulled another chair. "Ah," he blinked, "mornin' Arthur."

"Morning, Al." Arthur replied, easing himself into a comfortable position. "Tell me, why are you here?" He asked directly.

"Huh?" The American paused biting, frowning slightly. "What do you mean, _why are you here_?"

Sighing, the older blond leaned forward, propping his chin with his intertwined fingers. "Alfred, you know what I mean. I've been with you long enough to know that there is something wrong with you - just like you usually know that there is something wrong with me." He stated, and when the American showed the sign to protest he quickly continued, "you'll need more than that to trick me… because even Ivan noticed your condition."

There was nothing but silence for a few moments, before the taller man dropped his hamburger and let himself fall backwards. "Hell, Arthur," he muttered quietly, eyes downcast. "I know you'd notice sooner or later, but… can you believe me if I say that what I'm facing is fucking important? Because, well, I need to get this fixed quickly or…" Shuddering, Al grabbed his hamburger back and took a bit to calm himself down. No, nobody should know about this; not Ivan, and absolutely not Arthur. He had to face this, alone. With no one's help. It was his own problem… and he'd troubled the Briton enough already.

"You know you can always tell me, Al," Arthur tried to coax the blond sitting opposite him, "I don't know if that could help or not, but…"

"Thanks… but no thanks, Artie." Alfred cut him firmly, looking straight to Arthur's green eyes. "I've caused you enough trouble; and please… help me by not helping me. I've faced this before, and I'll face it again if I have to, and then I'll win. Just believe in that… and that'd mean a lot to me. I mean it."

The former pirate kept quiet until Al's statement was finished, and even if it had he still kept his mouth shut. All he did was returning Al's steely look with his own, before he gave in and chuckled lightly. "You know… I'm kind of proud of you now - no sarcasm in that." Arthur leaned back into his chair, and resumed, "but when I think you've had enough of it… don't you dare run away."

"Hah." Was all Alfred could say before he burst into a fit of laughter, which half-surprised the older man. "Seriously, Artie," he managed to say between laughs, "a hero like me won't need anyone's help until it got too far across the line!" About a minute later the laughter receded, and he wiped his wet eyes because of too much laughing. "But yea, don't you worry. I'll be just fine on my own… and I'll tell you when I really need some help, 'kay?"

"Sure." The Briton shrugged easily and stood up from his chair, grabbing his coat. "I'll be going now, then. Take care of yourself, Al." He finished as he began to head towards the entrance.

Alfred waved back slowly as he watched the older man disappear behind the glassy door. Sighing, he gulped down the rest of his Coke in a swig. After doing so he wiped his mouth clean before finishing his half-eaten hamburger.

Several minutes later found himself outside the McD, staring at the spacious street. It was noon already, about 1 or 2 p.m. It was snowing lightly around the city, but he didn't really pay any heed to any of his surroundings. All Alfred had in mind was about his country, and how to solve the problem it was currently facing.

The American had refused the Englishman's help, because… well… many reasons, this and that. When it came down to the personal level, though… he just wanted to show Arthur that he could also stand up on his own without the latter's help. It wasn't like, 'Hey look, I'm just so much better from you!' but more like, 'See? I can do it myself also… so let me try to finish it withot your help so I can improve.'

What was it… oh yeah. Never trouble another for what you can do for yourself.

And so Alfred slowly trotted back to his hotel with his head full of things. It was exhausting him off, all those works, but they also need to be done. Else what… he wouldn't want to think about the possibilities.

When he reached the front of his room, Alfred unlocked it and then closed the door with a soft click. Flicking on the switch, few of the lamps flickered on, illuminating the room just enough that he wouldn't trip or fall over something.

He hung his coat on the provided pole and slumped on the sofa. The American stared blankly at the ceiling, not even blinking. Taking off his glasses, he placed it on the table, covering his eyes with his left hand. Al threw a sideway glance to the stacks of files that stood upon the desk with a loathing-like look, before standing up with a grunt.

Arthur… well at least he didn't really know what was happening. But knowing the Brit, he wouldn't stop just like that, and probably would be persistent to find out the truth. _No_, Alfred promised himself, _I would never tell him. Let him find out by himself… and I can do it on my own._

Letting out a defeated sigh, the young nation turned on the table lamp and began to work on the papers.

****

Arthur was sitting inside his hotel room with a cup of tea held tightly in his right hand. Outside it was snowing, and it reminded him somehow with England. _It must be raining now…_ He thought, I _wonder if I'll be able to see Canada in a sunny day._

That week's World Meeting took place in Quebec, Canada, and as it was still winter the rain was in the form of snow. It wasn't strange though… Canada was even nearer to the North Pole than America was. Tomorrow would be the last day of the meeting, and after that the nations would all return to their homeland. As for himself… for some reason he missed England more than usual. He had no idea why…

Shaking his head, the Briton sipped back the rest of the tea and brought both the cup and its platter into the kitchen. He returned to the chair and turned to face his laptop, pushing the Wi-Fi button. The hotel had the wireless facility, so why not use it? Besides, it was not like he had to pay anyway.

After the Google homepage appeared on the screen, Arthur only gazed at it for several seconds before snapping out of his dozing state. Tapping his fingers on the table, he pondered what should he check on… not about news of his country… so… oh yeah.

He'd check on America.

All those news he had read about America's condition had just been like that, nothing special, nothing more. The head editor probably thought that it was probably enough for the readers… but for Arthur, it wasn't. There was something… very small… that was hidden inside the words, that he was certain. He couldn't find it out by himself even though he had searched every corner of the articles. And Alfred wasn't really helping with not wanting to tell anything.

The American wasn't usually like that. Usually with the exact amount of coaxing – or force, sometimes – he would spill most of it out.

So Arthur typed on the search engine and waited for the result.

What he had been expecting was a lot like the result. Nothing too special, really… but one link caught his attention. The Briton frowned, and clicked on it. After a very quick scan, it wasn't a news about the USA… it was a blog. How come did his intended topic ended like this?

He scrolled to the bottom of the page, where one comment took his attention.

_ragged-jaws: Hey, great story! XD And it's reached here, so lemme guess. You're nearing the climax, yea? :D  
aguila-flame: Yep you're right! I guess I'm being too explicit here… so I'll try to hide it more now. And ahaha, thanks!_

_What the…_ Arthur thought confusedly. _What_ _does this have to do with America?_ He scrolled up again to check the date of the post.

_Rise of the Fallen Eagle  
29__th__ December 2062, 11.47 p.m. Posted by aguila-flame_

Oh. So he just had to go back to the previous posts to read all of them to find out what they were talking about… nice. Just a total waste of time.

But nevertheless, the Briton returned to the blog after he was clad in his pajamas, frowning all along. He returned to the very first post that had the tag of RotFE, and began reading from the top of the page.

The rest of that night, which meant about three more hours before midnight, Arthur spent reading the done chapters. Though it kinda hurt his eyes to read a long story in American English, he forced himself to do so… and when he reached the page that he visited at the first time, he knew the meaning of the comment. Or kind of.

****

A/N: If anyone is interested in the post (the story), I'll put it up somewhere… but big chance is, not here. I'm trying to plan the route… but I just can't! TT^TT And let's see… there's, like, one quote here? It's pretty obvious, I think. Just point it out and I'll credit you in the next chapter! Also if anyone noticed grammar errors and such, feel free to point it out - I need people's help, of course :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_July 4__th__, C.E. 2063_

America's Independence Day.

But Alfred's absence was _very _unusual. The young nation was always present in the meeting even at his birthday. Although after the meeting ended he would storm off to the place of his party, inviting all other members of the meeting, including Arthur and even Ivan. While the former mostly skipped the party, the latter always came. Well Arthur came, sometimes, and it was usually not long, unlike Ivan.

He had used a lot of reasons just to avoid the party – works, errands and other domestic matters – but the truth was that it was still hard for him to forget that day, when he let go of America. He was still bitter about it, though it had lessened over the years… but he could never forget it completely.

Now all nations in the World sat inside the meeting room with the exception of Al. His seat was empty and no one dared to sit there, for one or many reasons.

Arthur scanned the room, and noticed one other seat empty. Sparing his watch a glance, the Brit frowned. It was 10.15 a.m., and the meeting itself had started 15 minutes ago. That empty seat belonged to Matthew, and he wasn't usually late to the meeting – in fact he was one of the first ones to arrive there. So where could he be?

And Francis' expression was getting even worse with each passing minutes, Arthur noticed. It was rather strange; Francis wouldn't wear that kind of expression except in critical moments, so what had happened to the Canadian?

This week's meeting took place in Osaka, Japan, and so the black-haired youth was the host of the meeting. And like every other meetings, the host was given the first chance to speak and to open the meeting.

Kiku sat on his seat silently, but he was fidgeting every now and then. Arthur noticed… it was like he was still waiting for Al to show up. But the Briton knew that the chance of that was very small to none at all… and when he was about to ask Kiku to start, the Japanese finally decided to stand up, commanding everyone's attention.

"Um, can I have everybody's attention please?" Kiku's voice issued from the end of the room. When all heads turned to his direction, his faced paled slightly and he cleared his throat. "Uh, okay. Alfred-san and Matthew-san are not here by the moment… but I suppose… can I ask one of you to help to take the notes for them both?"

"I'll do it." Arthur's voice issued from the other end of the room, and paid no heed the heads that turned to his direction. He was going to do this for Al and Matthew, God, so why were they staring at him? After few seconds passed and they still hadn't looked back, the Brit raised his eyebrows and half-growled, "what?" And when he did so those who had been staring at him immediately looked down and pretended to scribble some notes, or few that glanced at the clock.

"So," Kiku began again after they all returned to the normal state. "Our main issue in this week's meeting, as we all know, is the wars and commotions. It's been going on for too long to be ignored… and although I know that most of you don't have any connections with the nations that are facing them, I think it's necessary for us to help them." Kiku paused, drawing a breath. He eyed the table for a while, trying to focus on how to say the next thing.

"What's the next thing, aru?" Yao asked, eyeing the unusual behavior of the young nation.

"Ah, yes." Kiku coughed and then sat back down. "I don't know whether if all of you that are inside this room knew already… but… our next topic - important or not I have no idea - is America."

Gasps could be heard from around the room, and Arthur threw a quick glance. Most of them had a surprised look, even the usually stoic Berwald had a shocked glint behind his glasses. Francis, he'd been wearing that grim expression ever since the beginning of the meeting, and it was even worse now.

Ivan, on the other hand, was still smiling that same smile he usually used… even Toris who sat beside him was shuffling away bit by bit. It wasn't that maniacal, sardonic smile he'd saw when someone pissed him off… and then he suddenly turned to face Arthur.

"Hm? What's wrong, Arthur?" Ivan asked, still smiling.

Surprised because he was found staring, the Briton coughed and shook his head. "Ah, it's nothing, Ivan."

"Uh, people? Can I have your attention back, please?" Kiku called, effectively silencing the whispers. "So as I was saying-" He was cut off by a rather loud slam.

Everyone turned their heads to the entrance door to see a flustered Matthew standing there, panting heavily. He was sweaty – which wasn't really strange considering the hot summer – but his expression was unusual. While he usually had the calm look, it was replaced by a panicked one now.

Francis stood up and walked over to the Canadian, grabbing him by his shoulder. "Mathieu, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes, I'm f-fine, Francis," he stammered, looking frantically for the host of the meeting. He gave up one second after, and bolted upright. "G-Guys, y-you – oh whatever – turn on the TV! Turn it on, quick!"

"Matthew, what's wrong?" Arthur asked gently, trying to calm the Canadian down.

"It-it's-" He shook his head, closing his eyes shut. "Ar-Arthur, A-Alfred, he's-" Matthew was cut off by the rather blaring voice of the TV.

Kiku fumbled with the remote clumsily since he was also shocked, and managed to lower the volume. There, on the wide screen was a chaotic situation, masses of people running to every direction. The reporter just stood there, covering his ears and seemingly yelling into his mike.

"Kiku, find another channel that's using English, I can't understand what he's talking about!" Arthur commanded, which the Japanese followed immediately.

"Y-Yes, Arthur-san, immediately."

When he did find the channel where the reporter was using English, everyone in the room clamped their mouth shut. Even Ivan stopped smiling and only stared expression-less at the screen.

Few others, such as Matthew, Kiku, Francis and of course Arthur gawked; the look on their faces of blatant horror.

"_I'm standing right here in the middle of the chaotic mess in front of the White House – there's really nothing I can explain now, except that this is the result of the previous _shocking_ event… which may I say people, is bad. _Horribly_ bad._"

"What in the name of God happened?!" The Briton almost yelled, but held himself back. This was not the correct time to get angry – the situation was already tense. "Matthew, what happened exactly? The reason why you came running into here."

The Canadian drew a breath, and then tried to stop his quivering. He eventually stopped, and that's when he stood up from his crouching position. "Alfred's boss – America's president was killed. Shot down above the podium when he was giving speech on the very day of its independence."

The room became eerily silent, every nation deep in their own thoughts. It was Yao who broke the silence. "…Killed, aru?"

"…Yes, killed. Dead, added with the fact that he fell right in front of Al's own eyes."

Francis gasped quietly, and whispered, "_mon dieu_, that must be very terrifying for _l'Amerique_… not just Alfred, I mean…"

Arthur shot him a wry glance, "you won't even know the half of it, Francis. And I mean it, a lot."

"Uhm, guys?" Kiku called, pointing to the screen, "I think you all should see this."

"…_And here is the short playback of what had happened before this mess –"_

The President was standing on the podium, orating in a way that they could say blazing. Alfred stood at the end of the row, smiling brightly and as proud as ever. And then a single gunshot was heard, and not a second later the President disappeared from the podium. Silence followed immediately, and Al's face turned pale white, his jaw hanging open in a shocked look.

The President of the United States was shot down, killed; in front of his very own eyes.

Then it all changed into a chaos when one person screamed. Masses of people began to move, slowly at first, then gradually entering the panicked level. Screams, yells, pushing and pulling; they were all mixed into one. The security guards couldn't really do anything to stop that amount of people rushing everywhere.

In a flash before the recording ended, the nations could see a blurred image near the podium, moving too fast to be captured by the camera; and then the recording ended.

"_That's all that we've managed to record... but even if it's not enough to satisfy you, we hope that at least you know of America's current condition, on the very day of its independence._"

The nations were still silent, unable to speak or pretty much anything else. The only audible sound inside the room was Francis' gentle soothing for the Canadian.

Kiku collected himself again, and coughed to get everyone's attention. "Now people, I think it's clear what our main issue should be, yes?"

"Gotcha agree with you there, man." Gilbert replied.

"We can't let Alfred stay that way, da?" Ivan added.

And so they prepared themselves for one of the most important meetings up to date, as it concerned Alfred – _America _– very much.

****

Alfred sat on the couch inside his usual office inside the White House, body still trembling as he buried his face in his palms. His Boss was just killed… _shot_, when he was giving his speech in front of the people!

Well, when he thought about it again, within that amount of people the chance of someone having a firearm was big enough… but still, the securities could've checked and stopped them, right?

…Except that one of the securities had let them in.

He quickly grabbed his private phone and called one of his – drinking – senior inside the military… Colonel Douglas Hunter.

"Huh? …Yeah, get me to the Colonel – what? He's busy? I don't care how, just get me through to him! From… tell him the brat need to know something. _Immediately_."

"'_ullo._" The gruff reply came from the other side.

"Hey, Doug." Alfred greeted curtly.

"_Whaddya want?_" The Colonel answered, "_I'm busy dealing with those bastards._"

"That's why I'm calling you… listen. I have a question here."

He could hear the Colonel shuffling himself into a better position. "_Spit it out, kid._"

Alfred grabbed a pen and a small paper, and began, "listen, d'you have the list of the securities that are supposed to guard the field today? Their names, or whatever you have."

"_I have 'em, lad. How should I send it t'you? Manually is impossible, remember that. All men's alert is high after that incident._"

Thinking about it for a moment, Al answered, "how 'bout tonight, 8 o'clock? At your usual bar?"

"_That'll do. Anythin' else you need or want to tell?_"

Capping his pen, the American smiled slightly. "That's all, Colonel. Thanks for your help."

"_Anytime, brat._"

After the telephone line closed, Alfred slumped into the couch and sighed. Boy, it had been a very exhausting day… and he still had to take care about lots of other things,

Now that he paused for a moment, another different matter came to his mind. There was a World Meeting today, and he didn't attend it because of today's event. Surely Matthew would know, yes? It was rare for him not to attend the meeting… but after several consequent times skipping that wasn't rare anymore.

****

Hours later Alfred found himself lazily eyeing his people inside his usual bar. Really, even after such tragic event that morning, could people just forget things like that so easily? He shook his head. Men changed year after years, and even if he was still young compared to other nations such as Arthur, he knew what had happened, and what would continue to happen. It was life, and what could he do to change such powerful thing?

A voice interrupted him from his thoughts, and the American looked up to see his superior glaring down to him. "Hey there, Doug." He slurred a bit, alcohol beginning to take its toll.

"'ere." The standing man slapped a brown envelope on the table. "That's all I could get for ya."

"Ah." Al replied rather unintelligently, nodding slowly. "Thanks a bunch, Colonel. Care for a drink or two?"

"No can do, brat." Douglas huffed, rubbing his temples. "Still need to do more works, preparations for tomorrow."

The young nation nodded, and waved his hand at the retreating man. But he felt like he still had something to tell the Colonel… he just couldn't figure what it was. Ah, whatever.

Alfred returned his attention to the bar, taking a sip from his glass. He'd had too much today… and although he knew alcohol couldn't finish his problem, at least it could relax him a bit. Make him forget about the current things. Maybe, just maybe… that was the main reason for people to drink – to forget their problems, even for just a moment…

* * *

A/N: Okay, so this is pretty much a transition chapter and HARD to write. It's hard and made my head dizzy, so if there's a lot of grammar mistakes, I'm sorry…

Anyway, on to the next. As far as I know Denmark, Norway and Holland haven't got their human names… right? So I've got their names, but I need your opinions too… Denmark: Vilhelminus Baunsgaard; Norway: Johann Brudtland (he's a guy, right?); and Holland: Ruud van Marijnen.

Anyone have better names or suggestion? Please tell me, I'd appreciate it a lot if you'd help :)

…speaking about it, Hetalia's official movie will be out around June, yes?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next morning Alfred jolted awake at the same time as his alarm rang. He was panting heavily, clutching at his sweaty shirt. "Oh what the heck-" He groaned as a pain shot through his upper body. His vision was still blurred, even worsening now. His heart was aching, and soon the pain spread further into his lungs, quickening his breathing pace.

The American got himself out of the bed and rummaged the desk beside his bed for his glasses. Finding it, Alfred scrambled up to his feet and to the door, before another course of pain hit him again. He fell to his knees; and trembling, he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. Glancing over to the digital clock, the young nation forced himself up and trudged out of the room heavily.

Within a few steps he was already leaning against the wall again, his body shaking even more. He was sure that his heartbeat was out of its normal state by now… because dammit, he might as well choke himself and faint out!

And when the worst wave of pain shot through his whole body, the American screamed loudly in agony.

"Hell… DC…" Were his last words before he lost his consciousness and fell to the ground.

* * *

Almost three years later, Arthur Kirkland stood before the mighty entrance of the White House. It was around September now, and the cool breeze of fall was blowing around him. The streets weren't as crowded as he could remember even if it was only 10 in the morning; and there weren't many people walking in and out the entrance.

Tightening his coat around his body, the Briton braced himself as he walked up the steps and passed the guards. He ignored the curious looks from them, and when he still felt their eyes on his back he paused and turned back. "Haven't your boss told you that I'd be coming today? So why are you staring at me like that; am I some sort of thief or murderer or what?" He said in a menacing tone.

"He has." The taller of the guards shrugged easily. "That's why we didn't stop you, else we'd probably have shot you even before you got through us."

Arthur was seriously considering about drawing his own gun and fired a single shot to that guard's head… how dare he say such thing? Gritting his teeth, the Briton gave the annoying guard a death glare and forced himself to turn back before he snapped.

He could hear the guard laughing, and it seemed that his shorter friend stayed silent. Either that or he was trying not to laugh also.

The Englishman paused before the door that led to America's President's office, and then knocked twice.

"Come in," a voice issued from the inside, "the door's not locked."

Arthur pushed open the door and entered the room. It was exactly as he remembered, except that the aura was totally different, and for few missing furniture.

The so-called 'President' of the United States was standing in front of the balcony, staring outside. "Please have a seat, Mr. Kirkland." He offered.

Giving a curt nod, Arthur took off his coat, folded it and held it to his chest. "Good morning, Mr.…?"

"David." The President offered, and took a seat across the Briton. "As you know, it's been our policy not to let anyone in and out during these years… but as for the UK, that we'd shared some… special, relationship; you're an exception to that rule." David leaned back, "now what can I help you with, Mr. Kirkland?"

The older nation took his short time to observe the man sitting in front of him. He had a calm yet mysterious aura lingering around him… but he was convinced that David was the one behind all this mess. "I'm here to meet Alfred, if you would."

"Ah." The President blinked once, "Jones."

"Yes, him. Alfred F. Jones." _The brat_, he added in his mind.

"I'm afraid he's a bit… busy at the moment, Mr. Kirkland."

At that moment Arthur almost snapped right there and then and he wouldn't pay a single care if his action could cause the third World War. "Busy doing what?" He said through gritted teeth, "his job? I thought he was pretty much _jobless _right now." He couldn't help but to slip some threatening tone in the end.

David's eyes darkened for a moment, but he stood up nonetheless. "Fine, I'll let you meet him. But remember that each of your actions will be recorded by us." Gesturing for the former pirate to follow after him, David knocked the door at the back of the room. "Jones, come out. You have a visitor."

Soon enough the door opened, revealing a man none other than Alfred himself.

The American, upon seeing the Englishman he'd missed a lot, paused in his track, jaw dropping in the process. "…Arthur?" He muttered disbelievingly.

The Briton took in the young nation's appearances from top to bottom. From the outside he looked just fine, except for some signs of exhaustion etched on his face. But Arthur knew better than to believe the outer looks only. Behind the white sleeved shirt he was wearing, Arthur could see that he'd lost some good amount of weight… or even more.

"Arthur…"

"I need my time now, Mr. David, if you please." The older nation said curtly. He needed to make this meeting as quick and as efficient as possible; and in order to do that he would need the President's absence.

"Just keep in mind that all of your actions are going to be recorded, Mr. Kirkland." David said as he went out of the room and closed it with a click.

"Alfred," the Englishman began but was cut off as his body was crushed by a bear hug from the young nation. "Alfred… hey, please, Al…" He cooed, rubbing soothing circles on the American's back.

"Art-Artie…" Al half-sobbed, tightening his hug, "I-I…"

"Hush, Al. You're a grown up now and a strong nation now; you can't afford to cry…" Lowering himself onto the couch, Arthur pushed his ex-colony away and looked directly to the clouded blue eyes. "Now just calm down, okay? And tell me what happened."

The taller blond stopped sobbing eventually, and wiped his eyes with his white sleeve. "Listen to me, Iggy – Arthur," he began, pausing for a second. In that brief moment the stubborn gleam was back in his eyes, and he pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. Motioning for the Englishman to come nearer to him, he suddenly whacked the side of Arthur's head that he fell to the floor with a loud '_what the hell?_'.

He promptly kneeled down to the floor along, slipping the paper – the camera wouldn't catch it but he knew that his ex-mentor's sharp eyes wouldn't miss it. He grinned sheepishly and said, "sorry 'bout that, Iggy," he paused, and added in a quiet murmur, "I had to do that." The look in the Briton's eyes was torn between venomous and understanding, but he hoped that the latter would be more dominant. The last thing he needed was for him to get mad.

"…Fine." He grumbled, straightening his shirt, and then added, "just make sure that when all of this is done, you're still alive. If you're not, I'll make sure that even hell wouldn't stop me from bringing you back and then send you to hell again _with my own hands_."

The American stared for a second or two, before he broke into the widest grin that stretched from ear to ear. And then he crushed his old mentor in a bear hug, and laughed for the first time after months. It was really awesome, to be able to laugh without any burden on his shoulders. For as long as he was held captive in the White House, he'd only known of the outer world from the news and the words that circulated around the building. But still, while he could believe the news, he couldn't believe the guards – most likely whatever thing they'd said were dictated for them in order to trick the young nation.

But if they thought he was stupid, then they were dead wrong. From the outside he might look like a total idiot most of the times; but Alfred F. Jones was anything but stupid.

America might be chained and held back with David in control, but as the nation itself, his mind was free and nobody would ever tie it down except himself.

He knew, without any doubt, that the cameras recorded everything he'd done ever since Arthur stepped his foot into this room. His vulnerable moment; he knew that they'd make fun of him for it later. Then again, as long as the paper he'd slipped into the ex-pirate's pocket went unnoticed, he would endure any physical and mental torment that would be given to him. Until he'd set his people free again.

Because Arthur'd promised that he would kick Hell off of his throne and drag Alfred back if he didn't survive until it was all over.

"Thanks, Artie, thanks a lot." He patted the older man's back before releasing his embrace. He looked down softly into the patient green eyes, before kissing the Englishman's forehead lightly. Then ushering Arthur out, he took a step back and nodded. "You have to go now; you have loads of things to do."

"Right." The reply was short but assuring. "I'll be sure to finish them off then." With those words, Arthur turned his back and began to pace towards the door. Faintly he heard words of '_good luck_', and tried to stifle the proud smile that was making its way to his face. Now was not the time to let his guards down, especially when he had a _very _pressing matter in hand.

Stepping out of the room, two of the guards walked towards him and were on the verge of stopping him, but he gave them the look when he didn't want anyone to disturb him right now. It had the desired effect, and he smirked inside. Nobody messed with the UK, _specially _England, when something important depended on him.

David was nowhere around, and for that he was grateful. He didn't want any interrogation, all he wanted was to get out from this wretched place and back to his homeland. His secretary also had the ignorant look on her face; they were the same, and that was good.

* * *

"_Angleterre_, what happened?" Francis immediately asked when the Briton finally showed up in the meeting room. His posture was rigid, as if trying to hold back all his emotions. But his strides were long and powerful; those who didn't know him well enough would've thought that he was feeling smug about something.

Beside him, Matthew fidgeted nervously in his place, and he placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. Eventually he did though, and he braved himself to ask – it was about his twin, after all. "Eh, Arthur, what happened with Alfred?"

Still, he said nothing. After he sat on one of the chairs then he did open his mouth and say something. "Alfred is well, but America is not. And we also wouldn't be, if you don't hear me out now."

Every nation in the room clamped their mouths and sat down also.

Then Arthur spoke up, "the current President of the USA is going to attack us if we don't do something." Series of gasps filled the room, but he gave it no heed as he continued, "with nuclear bombs."

The room switched into eerie silence again and it stayed like that until Francis croaked, "_nuclear_?"

"You heard me right." He pulled out the crumpled paper and laid it on the table, "to where is still unclear, but I'd say that his targets are nations with global influence."

"Then we'd better stop him, da?" Ivan answered for all the nations.

* * *

A/N: So, um... sorry for the delay? I dunno... wrote this chapter separately, so I had no idea if it fits in place... I hope so, though. As usual, if you saw any grammar mistakes, something to ask or maybe something that I left behind or forgot to mention, please tell me :) By the way, I have a poll on my profile... it's a simple poll, for you fans of FMA and Hetalia... along with a -rather insane- crossover of the two animes. Well... if you happen to have any time and are a fans of them, I hope you'd check it out and give a sentence or two about how's it going and such... ah, I should stop now or I'd go rambling...


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